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Take with you your companions: as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter,
And seek for grace: What a thrice double ass
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool ?
Pro.

Go to ; away! Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage wnere

you found it.

Scb. Or stole it, rather.

(Ercunt CAL. STE. and TRIN.
Pro. Sir, I invite your higliness, and your train,
To my poor cell: where you shall take your rest
For this one night ; which, part of it, I'll waste
With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away : the story of my life,
And the particular accidents gone by,
Since I came to this isle: And in the morn
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.

Alon.
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
Pro.

I'll deliver all :
And promise you calin seas, auspicione gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. – My Ariel. chick, -
That is thy charge : then to the elements ;
Be free, and fare thou well ! - Please you, draw

[Ercunt

I long

near.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown.
And what strength I have's mine own
Which is most faint : now, 'tis true,
I must be here confin’d by you,
Or sent to Naples : Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell ;
But release me from my bands,
With the help of your good hands.'
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please : Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer ;
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

' i. e. by your applause. Noise was supposed to dissoire I spell. Thus before in this play:

« hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marria."

INTRODUCTION

TO

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA

Vast labour and research have been spent in endeavours 10 ascertain the times when Shakespeare's several plays were writ. en, and the sources whence his plots and materials were drawn. The subject is certainly very curious and interesting, not only in reference to the Poet's external bistory, but as illustrating the growth and progress of the greatest individual mind that hath reported itself in human speech. And, though the desired results have seldom been reached, enough has been done to pay the iabour : : even where the end has not been gained such approximations have been often made as amply viudicaie the undertaking ; and in overhauling the musty records of antiquity, along with much that is valuable only or chiefly as bearing upon something else, much has also been brought to light, that is of rare value in itself. Thus Shakespeare, ever fresh and ever young himself, keeps alive many things which it is for our interest not to let die; he being, as it were, the master of ceremonies to bring us acquainted with the great spirits that cluster and revolve around him.

We are ap! to think of Shakespeare too much as an abstraction of intellectual power, with whom the ordinary laws and processes of mental life and action had little or nothing to do. He must indeed have been a prodigious infant, yet an infant he unquestionably was; and had to proceed by the usual paibs from infancy to manhood, how unusual soever may have been the ease and speed of his passage. Dowered perhaps with such a portion of genius as hath fallen to no other mortal, still his powers had to strugg o through the common infirmities and encumbrances of our nature For, assuredly, his mind was not born full-grown and ready-turnished for the course and service of Truth, but had to creep, totter, and prauile ; much study, observation, experience, in shori, a long, severe tentative process being required to insinew, and disciplme, and regulate his genius into power.

Had he been naturaliy free

from inward insufficiencies, still he was beset with clogs and draw.
backs from without: to act upon the age as he did, he must needs
have been more or less acted upon by it; and even had he been
able to start from the point where he ended, it was impracticable
for him to do so, since in that case he would have been too far
ahead of those for whom he wrote to lahe them along with him.
And such, no doubt, were the very trials and chastenings whereby
ho came to be

" of a rectified spirit,
By many revolutions of discourse refin'd
From all the tartarous moods of common meni

most severe
In fashion and collection of himself;
And then as clear, and confident as Jove."

Dryden rather oddly represents the Poet's ghost as saying,

« Untaught, unpractis'd, in a barbarous age,

I found not, but created first, the stage :'

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but this is far from true, the ghost being made to utter Dryden's thoughts, not Shakespeare's. For, though the least that ue did may be worth more than all that was done before him, and his poorest performances surpass the best of his models; it is never. theless certain that his task was but to continue and perfect what others had begun. Not only were the three forms of comedy, history, and tragedy in use on the English stage, but the eleinents of these were to some extent blended in the freedom and variety of the Romantic Drama; though of course in nothing like the purity and harmony wherein he presented them. The usage, also, of dramatic blank-verse stood up inviting his adoption; there being scarce any variety of measure, or pause, or cadence, of which Marlowe had not set the example: though no one before or since has come near Shakespeare in the mastery of its capabilities, – in the ever-varying, never-tiring fluctuation of his verse; his genius being an inexhaustible spring of both mental and verbal modulation. Nor can this be rightly regarded as any alleviation of his task, or any ahaiement of his fame. For to work thus with materials and upon models already prepared, without being drawn duwn to their level and subdued to their quality, asks a higher order an I exercise of power, than 10 strike out in a way and with a stock entirely now. And herein it is that the absorbing, ana purifying, and quickering virtue of Shakespeare's genius is best seen : he had noi a drama to create in any of its forms or ele. ments, but a drama to regenerate and rectify, - to inform its shapes with life and grace, to temper and mould its elements in the bappy symmetry and proportion of living art. Thus his work natural y inked in with the whole past: in his hands the collective

thought and wisdom of ages were smelted out of the earth and loss wherein they lay imbedded, and wrought into figures of undecay. ing beauty; and the extraction and efficacy of centuries were treasured up in his pages.

It can hardly be questioned that The Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA was among the earliest-written of our author's plays. This is apparent from the internal evidence: the frequency of rhymes, the comparative want of variety, and the general smooth. ness of the versification showing that he had not yet grown to a just reliance on his own strength, and to the free working of his powers; that he was rather looking at his models than overseeing them, - rather mastered by them than mastering them and rising upon them. Compared to the plays of what is termed his hird . or even his second period, the poetry, rich as it is, has more of a lyrical than dramatic cast; particular parts and passages, though often full of beauty, are less subordinated to the whole, and seem more as if used for their own sake; the general style and strueture is loose, unvital, inorganic ; and we miss the close-knitting of thought and image, the subtle and sinewy discourse, and the * working words," that give such matchless energy and operation to his later and riper performances. Hence, no doubt, the persuasion of certain men, that Shakespeare had little share in the making of this play. Concerning whom Mr. Collier savs, " The notion of some critics, that The Two Gentlemen of Verona con. tains few or no marks of Shakespeare's band, is strong proof of their incompetence to forn a judgment.” Wherein we agree with him ; for Shakespeare's marks are set all over the play: but they are the marks of his “ prentice hand,” though such as no prenlice hand but his could have put into it; the play, especially in the more comic parts, poor as these are beside others from the same source, as inuch outstripping any thing done before him as is talls short of what he afterwards did.

The internal evidence is corroborated hy whatsoever of exter nal evidence hath come down to us. Of the plays mentioned by Francis Meres in his Wil's Treasury, published in 15:18, The Two Gentlemen of Verona stands first in the list. Ile says : “ As Plaulus and Seneca are accounted the best for comedy and tragedy among the Latins; so Shakespeare among the English is the most excellent in both kinds for the stage. For comedy, witness bis Gentemen of Verona, his Errors, his Love's Labour's Lost, his Love's Lahour Won,* his Midsummer Night's Dream, and his Merchant of Venice; for tragedy, his Richard II., Richard III., Henry IV., King John, Titus Andronicus, and his Romeo and Juliet.” Sup posing Meres to include both parts of Henry IV., an adding the three parts of Henry VI., which were written before this date,

*

* The original title of All's Well That Ends Well.

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